Winter's Orbit

by Everina Maxwell

  The radiation-poisoning gaze was back in full force. Kiem swallowed and just about stopped himself from apologizing. Instead he said, “The choice isn’t stasis or war, ma’am. We can change.”

  “By undermining the Empire?”

  “I’m a loyal subject of the Empire. Ma’am.”

  The Emperor’s mouth cracked open. Kiem had so rarely seen her smile that at first he didn’t recognize it. It was terrifying. “I am pleased to hear it,” she said slowly. “You may go and tell the Auditor I will sign this.”

  “What?” Kiem said at the same time as one of aides voiced the start of a protest. “I mean. Thank you?”

  The Emperor got to her feet. She ignored both interruptions in favor of picking Kiem apart through the sheer force of her stare. Kiem felt his metaphorical skin start to peel. “Needless to say, this was not what I intended when I chose you for the Thean marriage.”

  The door to the Observatory Hall opened. A noise filtered through: the low, nervous buzz of a small crowd.

  “I only want the best for us,” Kiem said. “For Iskat.”

  “Do you?” the Emperor said. Her thin, unsettling smile hadn’t gone. She scrutinized him like a new piece that had turned up unexpectedly in the middle of a long board game. Kiem was suddenly even more nervous, for reasons that had nothing to do with the negotiation. “I suppose I can work with that.”

  She swept ahead of him through the door. Her aides and Vaile hurried to follow.

  The staff had finished preparing the Observation Hall. Nobody except the treaty representatives and their guests was allowed in the room, so the attendees were few; the crowds would be let in for the events and celebrations afterward. The Hill Enduring was blazoned in white light every twenty paces on its walls, interspersed with symbols and drapes from the other six planets. Kiem could now put names to a dozen or so of the Thean clan flags.

  The Resolution had no symbol. Instead, the junior staffers stood around the edge of the immense space at intervals, each with a silver rod that projected a white illusion field over the floor. It broke across Kiem’s ankles, like the floor had been flooded by a thin layer of shining cloud.

  At the front of the hall, the Auditor’s face-field had gone pure silver. He raised a hand, and a gong sounded. Kiem hurried over to the Thean delegation, who were about to take their seats. He met Jainan’s eyes and apparently didn’t need to say anything, because Jainan searched his expression and gave a slow, cool smile.

  CHAPTER 32

  Kiem was probably the smuggest person at the after-dinner drinks, but he’d decided he was fine with that.

  When he and Jainan emerged from dinner into the reception room, it was already crowded; the Theans were bright splashes of clan patterns among the more conventionally dressed Iskaners and the smattering of delegates from other planets. With the treaty safely signed, all the diplomats should be preparing to disperse back to their home planets, but instead most of them were settling in for weeks of talks to hammer out the implications of Thea’s last-minute deal. Iskat’s stranglehold on trade was broken. The Empire was in flux. The vassal planets had their own slow, cumbersome governing structures with their own internal pressures, so none of them seemed keen to upset things immediately, but there were twenty years to hash things out before the next Resolution treaty. The Emperor was in for a lot of arguments in the near future. Kiem sometimes suspected her of enjoying arguments, so that would at least keep her entertained.

  But for now, this reception was really just an excuse for all the relevant people on the seven planets to get dressed up, hobnob with their opposite numbers, and have some very good champagne. The noise level was already high.

  Kiem felt bubbly and light, more than he’d expected even from the champagne and the relief of sealing the treaty. Jainan was at his side, his silhouette sharp in the deep green of his clan, and a good part of Kiem’s glow came from the certainty that he had the most desirable person in the room right next to him, and everyone was probably jealous. He could be magnanimous in victory. More than that, actually, he felt so bubbly that he had to sit on the impulse to hug nearly everyone he met.

  “The toast was probably a bit much,” Jainan murmured. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I can propose toasts if I want,” Kiem said. “Toasting your partner is practically de rigueur. It’s what you do at dinners. Totally unexceptional.”

  “That is an absolute lie,” Jainan said. “You are trying to sell me a blatant untruth.” His hand tightened on Kiem’s arm. “And giving me that smile isn’t going to help you get away with it.”

  “I’m not smiling,” Kiem said, but as he said it, he realized he had been, and must have been for a while. “I’m having a good time.”

  “I can tell,” Jainan said. There was a thread of something in his voice, everything proper and controlled except this odd—affection? Kiem decided it was affection and felt warm all over. “You may want to steer away from that colonel up ahead,” Jainan added, in a more neutral tone. “She knew Taam. She’s probably read the interview.”

  “She won’t say anything,” Kiem said cheerfully, escorting Jainan in a slightly different direction. “Not after you eviscerated that politician who mentioned it.”

  “I was polite.”

  “You froze him dead,” Kiem said. “I felt the temperature drop and I wasn’t even the one you were staring at.”

  “Well, you somehow steamrollered him into volunteering for the Municipal By-Laws Subcommittee.”

  “He clearly doesn’t have enough to do, if he’s going around reading interviews in newslogs. Someone’s got to … by-law those municipals. And everyone says it’s the committee nobody wants to be on.”

  Jainan stifled a laugh, trying to disguise it as a cough. “You’re incorrigible. You’re abusing the system.”

  “Very badly,” Kiem agreed. He recognized Ressid on the other side of the room, but since there were dozens of people between them, Ressid only gave them an acknowledging wave. Kiem and Jainan stopped to greet the Thean Ambassador and a small circle of dignitaries; Prince Vaile was also there, fashionable in a dress made of some floating, mist-gray Galactic fabric. She seemed to be hatching something with the Ambassador.

  “Your Grace!” the Ambassador said, with more pleasantness than Kiem had ever seen him display. “Good news. We’ve secured the Kingfisher operation for you.”

  “Excuse me?” Jainan said.

  “The Emperor has generously transferred all the mining equipment to Thea and offered a team of specialists,” Vaile said. “Kingfisher did have some real mining engineers to provide it with the cover Taam needed. I believe you’ve met some of them.”

  “Run … the regolith mining operation?” Jainan said. “Run Taam’s operation?”

  “On a temporary basis,” Vaile said. “You could do a trial period of six months to start.”

  “I don’t—I—”

  The Ambassador coughed genteelly. “It would be advantageous to have someone in your position publicly attached to it.”

  Jainan glanced at Kiem. Kiem almost said something but realized he didn’t have to. Jainan was already turning his attention back to the Ambassador. “I. Yes. I’ll do it on a trial basis.” Kiem squeezed his shoulder, which was all the delight he could politely show in company. “I have some ideas. That catalytic intensifier Audel and I were…” Jainan trailed off, apparently in thought, and then focused on Vaile again. “I would like Professor Audel and her students on the operation.”

  “I believe that’s a matter for Thea,” Vaile said blandly. “The Emperor would never impose the Iskat way of doing things.”

  “Excellent,” the Ambassador said, while Kiem had a coughing fit and Jainan looked thoughtful. “Count Jainan, I must set up a meeting with the Infrastructure Bureau back home. I look forward to working much more closely with you. Ah. The Emperor.”

  They all turned to make their bows as an attendant opened the doors, and a wave of polite obeisances rippled out from th
e Emperor’s entrance. The Auditor was next to her. The people in their group gave them a nod and drifted away, part of a general realignment of the room as people flowed into the Imperial orbit. “Not very anxious to see her unless you are,” Kiem said to Jainan under his breath. “She’s probably got over the worst of it, but we may not be her favorite people right now. Just a guess.”

  “I imagine not,” Jainan said. “Neither do I have any desire to speak to the Auditor. Is that Bel?”

  Kiem followed his gaze. Bel was apparently deep in discussion with one of the Emperor’s soberly clothed aides. She looked up, as if she felt their eyes on her, and gave them an unreadable look before going back to the conversation.

  “None of our business, apparently,” Jainan said dryly.

  “Looks like it,” Kiem said. He had something of a premonition about what they might be discussing, fueled by the realization that the Emperor as a matter of course employed aides with bodyguard skills. Perhaps Bel demonstrating the ability to break into a military base to help out her employer wasn’t so much a problem as he had thought. The Emperor had granted that pardon to Bel without too much persuasion, now that he thought about it.

  “Dammit,” he muttered. “I think we’re going to get our aide poached.”

  “By the Emperor?”

  “I’d bet money that she’s trying,” Kiem said. However much alarm he felt at the prospect of losing Bel, it would probably be a good move for her career. The Emperor’s ex-aides went on to run committees, palace departments, spy networks. Bel was too clever to stay as an aide for long.

  Jainan was hailed by someone else from the Thean contingent, a woman wearing a jacket in the same greens as Jainan’s uniform. As they spoke, Vaile stepped away from the Ambassador and touched Kiem’s arm discreetly. “I’m glad I caught you,” she said. “The palace has been organizing the Thean side when it comes to events like this, but the palace coordinators have a lot on their plates. Taam was supposed to help, but of course, he was Taam … and the Minister for Thea wasn’t really up to it by the time he resigned.”

  Kiem became wary out of habit whenever Vaile went elliptical. “What are you getting at?”

  Vaile fluttered one hand. “The Emperor’s shuffling around the Diplomatic Service. She wants you to take the post of special liaison to Thea.”

  Kiem swallowed what felt like a sudden stone in his throat. “Er.” Someone had gone mad. He hesitated to say it was the Emperor, but it was that or Vaile, and Vaile seemed to be in full possession of her faculties. Kiem wasn’t fully acquainted with the Diplomatic Service, but a liaison post was definitely something that came with more responsibilities attached than just a treaty representative.

  On the other hand, that was a command if Kiem had ever heard one. “What happens if I don’t?”

  Vaile spread her hands. “Nothing.”

  Kiem paused and looked over at the Emperor. She was greeting various dignitaries, apparently holding five conversations at once while leaving everyone in no doubt that she saw everything happening around her. Her hard, black eyes skimmed over the crowd and caught Kiem’s. She carried on as if she hadn’t noticed him.

  Making him a diplomat was a terrible idea. Kiem found himself starting to grin.

  “Sure,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “That is certainly one way of looking at it,” Vaile said. “It seems they’ll be searching for more ambassadors to the Resolution soon as well. I’m sure you’ll have a flourishing career in the Diplomatic Service.”

  “Vaile,” Kiem said. “I’m not going anywhere near the Resolution.”

  Vaile gave him a small smile. “I’m glad at least someone in my family almost has themself together. Ah,” she added, just as Kiem was trying to work out if that was a compliment or not. “Speaking of family.” She nodded over to the double doors that led out from the reception room.

  The doors had swept open to admit a group of latecomers in military dress, bedecked with medals and rank emblems. The crowd opened like a flower around them. Kiem took one look and groaned. “Oh, great.”

  “Kiem?” Jainan detached himself from his conversation and discreetly fell in beside him. “What’s wrong?”

  “My mother,” Kiem said, under his breath. “She’s not supposed to be here yet. She must have taken an earlier shuttle. Argh.” He wondered for a fleeting moment if one of the gilded chairs would give him enough cover if he concealed himself behind it and thought chair-like thoughts.

  “Kiem!” A short, stout woman, her uniform bars sagging with the weight of medals on them, emerged from the center of the group.

  Kiem raised a hand. “Welcome back, Mother.” He gave Jainan a sorry this is probably going to be awful look and held out his arm. Jainan took it, and they approached her together.

  “General Tegnar,” Jainan said, bowing. Kiem bowed as well.

  Kiem’s mother looked them up and down. “Well, at least you two are in one piece,” she said. “No sooner do I hear you’re married, Kiem, than I hear you’ve lost your partner to some sort of kidnapping.”

  Kiem raised his head from his bow. “Mother!”

  “He didn’t lose me,” Jainan said. Kiem tried to shoot him a sideways apologetic look, but against all odds, Jainan was obviously trying to suppress a smile as he looked down at her. “I conveniently located myself in a classified military facility, which you must admit is hard to misplace.”

  Kiem’s mother snorted. “Could say that.” Her face crumpled into something even sterner, like continental collision happening on an accelerated timescale. “Heard about Fenrik. Kingfisher. Bad business all around.”

  “Have you heard what’s going to happen?” Kiem said.

  “Word is they’re retiring him,” his mother said shortly. “Might bring me back to Iskat.”

  “Ah,” Kiem said. He tried and failed to process how he felt about having his mother back on-planet. “Good?”

  “Thean,” his mother said, examining Jainan. “Hm. I hear on the grapevine you’re handy with a quarterstaff.”

  Jainan inclined his head. “I do my best.”

  “You’ll have to show me.” Kiem’s mother folded her arms and stared at Kiem. “Hear you hijacked a shuttle.”

  Kiem felt tongue-tied and lumbering and cowardly, as he usually did when confronted with his mother’s judgment. “It was for a good cause.”

  General Tegnar reached up a hand and unexpectedly clapped him on the shoulder. “Bet it was. Good show. Your Thean must be a good influence. Kiem wouldn’t even shoot at a target when we sent him to camp,” she added to Jainan. “Hope you can light a fire under him. Needs some backbone. Some ambition.” Her tone at the end turned hopeful.

  “I don’t think he needs to join the army to prove any sort of backbone, ma’am,” Jainan said gravely. “And I don’t believe you seriously think he’s going to.”

  “Sharp. Oh, well,” she said philosophically. “This diplomacy thing isn’t bad. Soon have you out in the system representing us. Military attaché.” She swept a look up and down him, winced, and appeared to reconsider. “Cultural attaché.” Kiem felt slightly like a pebble under the exhaust of a shuttle that had just launched. He managed a cultural-attaché sort of bow, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Oh, there’s the Fifth Division. Must talk. Jainan, come and find me tomorrow about the quarterstaff.”

  She gave them both a nod and strode off. Kiem let out an explosive breath, half frustration and half laughter. “Could have gone worse,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

  The smile was still playing around Jainan’s mouth as he watched her cross the room. “I see what you meant about her,” he said. “She’s not very like you.”

  “I understand her about as much as I understand the Emperor,” Kiem said. “Did I tell you Vaile’s trying to make me a diplomat? I’m hoping I can quietly slide out of it.”

  There was a flash of something curious in the glance Jainan gave him. “Yes, you wouldn’t enjoy that at all,” h
e said. “Imagine you trying to cope with meeting people, talking to people, persuading people to agree on things…”

  “Wait,” Kiem said. “Wait, what? One argument with the Emperor, fine, but I’m not clever enough for—” He broke off. “I’m not used to the other stuff. That’s politics.”

  Jainan didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he took two fresh glasses of champagne off an attendant’s tray and handed one to Kiem. After taking a sip, Jainan said, “I would like it if we went to Thea for a proper visit.”

  Diplomatic missions went to Thea. Of course, so did tourists. “We’ll definitely go,” Kiem said slowly.

  “Think about it,” Jainan said. “I suspect you would be very good at it.” He slid his arm into Kiem’s again and politely brushed off another conversation. The reception seemed to be getting into its stride; the younger staffers from Rtul and Kaan had split off into a noisy group around them. “How many more people do you think we’re obliged to talk to?”

  “None,” Kiem said instantly. “Let’s find one of the balconies.” He steered them toward the balconies at one end of the observation hall: bubbles of glass that bulged vertiginously out of the dome, giving an uninterrupted view of the stars. They might be open to the galaxy, but they were the only shot he was going to get at having some privacy with Jainan.

  “Kiem?” Bel had slipped out of the crowd and stood between them and the balconies. Both of them stopped. She looked unsettled, less put-together than she normally did, and her eyes on Kiem were accusatory. “Did you have anything to do with the job I just got offered?”

  “What?” Kiem said. “No! Wait. So she did offer you a job.” He realized he wasn’t helping his case. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. Why would you think I had something to do with it?”

  “Because it’s exactly the kind of thing you’d do,” Bel said.

  Kiem cast a glance of appeal at Jainan. “It is exactly the kind of thing you would do,” Jainan said.

  “Hey,” Kiem protested. “It wasn’t me. That would be shooting myself in the foot.” That wasn’t the thing at stake, though. He shouldn’t influence Bel’s choice; he tried to make his voice more neutral. “The Emperor made you a job offer.”